


ain't it good to know that you've got a friend

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Heavy Petting, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Protectiveness, brief appearance by Original Male Character, doesn't extend beyond, love realizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: “What’s going on?” Newton says, panic evident on his face. “Do we have a party I forgot about?”Hermann sighs and drops his hand from the tie. “There’s no party,” he says, eyeing Newton’s reflection in the mirror. “I have—well.” He straightens his shoulders. “I have a date.”





	ain't it good to know that you've got a friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bsafemydeers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsafemydeers/gifts).



> a little while ago i wrote a ficlet where newt goes on a date and bails when they make fun of hermann and i got a handful of requests for a follow up with the concept in reverse (ie hermann bailing on a date after they make fun of newt)! so heres some classic protective newmann :')
> 
> thank u to my twitter friends for helping me think of names for hermann's date lol i hate coming up with names for shit
> 
> for bsafemydeers over on tumblr, as per their request for this concept + a little bit of smut!

It is not, no matter what Newton likes to posit, entirely unheard of for Hermann to go on dates. Sometimes men are attracted to Hermann. Sometimes Hermann is attracted to them in return. They’re never anything... _serious_. (Dating is hardly marriage.) Dates can be fun, is all, and sometimes even relaxing, and Hermann—desperately—needs new methods of relaxation in his life, anything to distract himself from the impending doom of the world and his own not-insignificant part in stopping it. (His own inability to stop it.)

He has a date tonight, a date he worked _very hard_ to conceal the existence of from Newton, purely because he knew Newton would tease and pry endlessly the moment he found out. But of course that’s all blown up the instant Newton barges through the door to his quarters after work (apparently in search of a misplaced screwdriver) and comes face-to-face with Hermann, who’s slicked his hair back and is trying his very best to do up a tie with one hand. “What’s going on?” Newton says, panic evident on his face. “Do we have a party I forgot about?”

Hermann sighs and drops his hand from the tie. “There’s no party,” he says, eyeing Newton’s reflection in the mirror. “I have—well.” He straightens his shoulders. “I have a _date_.”

Newton snorts. Hermann scowls. “No shit,” Newton says, grin sliding off his face. “Seriously?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hermann says. He yanks the tie off entirely. “Can you knot this bloody thing for me? I haven’t the faintest idea how.” He ordered it new online just for the occasion.

Newton comes up behind him and has it done in a matter of seconds. “Easy,” he says. Then he clasps Hermann’s shoulder and spins him around. “Who the hell are you going on a date with?”

“His name is Todd,” Hermann says, fidgeting under Newton’s scrutiny. “He’s...nice.”

“ _Todd_?” Newton says, incredulous. “The transfer guy?” Hermann doesn’t answer. Newton rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away. “Fine. Whatever. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Use protection. Am I missing any other cliches? Oh, stay gold.”

“Leave,” Hermann says, and pushes Newton out his door.

 

* * *

 

Todd studies jaeger science, and—as Newton said—is technically a transfer, all the way from Russia, brought in to aid them indefinitely (though not permanently—his workspace is a spare room, just off from the communal showers, poorly converted to a tiny lab). He _is_ nice. And intelligent. And attractive. And most importantly (which is what caught Hermann's attention in the first place), he’s sweet to Hermann: he brings Hermann coffee, compliments Hermann’s work, and _doesn’t_ interrupt him at every chance he gets to interject his own personal aside and queries, unlike certain other scientists in Hermann’s acquaintance. He’s also volunteered to pay for dinner, which adds another metaphorical check by his name in Hermann’s book.

It’s going great—magnificently, actually, Hermann hasn’t had such a balanced conversation in a long while—and they’ve just moved onto dessert when everything takes a turn for the worse. Todd, as he explains, will be going back to Russia in a month and keeps _hinting_ that they could use the help of someone like Hermann (and furthermore, that Hermann would have his own lab there, should he accept a position). “I mean, really, I’m surprised you haven’t transferred already,” Todd says.

Hermann’s smile falters, good mood deflating like a balloon. “How so?”

“Well,” Todd says, all good humor, “Geiszler’s gotta be a nightmare to share a lab with.”

Hermann nods slowly. “Er. I suppose.” He pokes at his piece of cake. Hermann may have his problems with Newton, but he doesn’t make a habit of running around behind his back gossiping about him. It feels in bad taste. “It’s not _entirely_ —”

“I’ve only talked to the guy a few times and that’s enough,” Todd continues. “What’s up with those tattoos?”

“I don’t mind them,” Hermann says, a touch too quickly.

Todd makes a face. “I think they’re tasteless. “

Hermann bangs his fork very loudly on his plate. “Could we, perhaps, change the subject away from my lab partner?”

“Sorry, Hermann,” Todd says, not sounding very sorry. “I just thought you might want to vent or something. I didn’t mean—”

“Newton is unconventional, but that doesn’t make him any less of a—a _valuable asset_ to our team,” Hermann snaps. “Or any less of a good friend to me.”

Todd looks at him strangely; Hermann feels himself grow warm. He closes his mouth and busies himself with stirring sugar into his coffee. He may have...some certain sentiments to work through, regarding Newton. “Alright,” Todd says, after several minutes of silence. He rubs the back of his neck. “Uh. I’ll ask for the check, I guess.”

 

* * *

  

Newton’s waiting to ambush Hermann by the door to his quarters when Hermann gets home. (When Hermann gets home, alone, a distinct lack of Todd by his side.) He’s in his pajamas with a hooded sweatshirt pulled over top. “How’d it go?” he says, bouncing on his heels. “I kinda wanted to follow you and sit at a different table and watch behind a newspaper or something like I was in a movie. But then I was like, no, that’s weird, give Hermann some space—hey, man, you good?”

Hermann fumbles with his keys; Newton catches them before they can hit the ground, slips in front of him, and unlocks his door in one smooth motion. He holds them out. Hermann takes them and forces a smile. “Thank you, Newton.”

Newton follows him inside. “No Todd?”

“No Todd.”

Newton watches as he eases himself onto the edge of his bed, unbuttons his blazer, and strips down to his button-up, hovering just beyond the doorway as if hesitant to go any further. “How’d it go?” he repeats.

Hermann starts unlacing his shoes, one at a time. He could tell Newton the truth—that he left Todd not five minutes after they paid the bill and flat-out rejected his offers to walk Hermann home, take him out on a second date, or have him over for an innuendo-heavy _drink_ , and all because he insulted Newton, which is something that Hermann does on a daily basis and with relish—or he could think up a quick lie. Hermann chooses the latter. “He’s, ah, not my type, as it turns out.”

“Aw,” Newton says. “I’m sorry, dude.” He shuts the door and joins Hermann on the bed (well—flops down on it, limbs spread out like a starfish, taking up as much room as possible), evidently deciding on inviting himself in after all. “He looked like an asshole. Asshole name, too. I’m not surprised.” He sounds oddly pleased. “How much longer is he here?”

“One month,” Hermann says, recalling his conversation with Todd before—well.

Newton claps his hands together. “There you go,” he says. “You won’t have to put up with him after that.”

Hermann worries a bit of the fabric of his trousers between his fingers. “He wanted me to transfer with him,” he says, not looking up.

“After the first date?” Newton whistles. “ _Clingy_.”

“There’s enough lab space over there that I wouldn’t have to share with anyone,” Hermann continues.  _Share with you_ goes unspoken.

This gives Newton some pause. “And you turned that down?”

“I wasn’t particularly inclined to hear him out.” Hermann says, avoiding Newton’s real question. “He said some rather uncharitable things about you.”

Newton sits up quickly. When Hermann finally peeks in his direction, it’s to Newton giving him a look of complete disbelief. “Holy shit,” Newton says.

Hermann clears his throat. “I have no interest in dating—or working alongside—a man who’ll be so blatantly disrespectful to—”

“To who?” Newton says, disbelief replaced with something akin to glee. Newton didn’t get the chance to tease him about his date, but Hermann imagines he’ll be making up for it right now. “Your BFF?”

Hermann grits his teeth. “To someone I care about.”

“Ha,” Newton says, and then, heavily sarcastic, “Gay.”

“ _Newton_ ,” Hermann says.

They fall into uncomfortable silence. Newton drums his fingers on the bedspread. “I’ve been waiting outside all night,” he finally confesses, and Hermann’s eyebrows jump. “Is it shitty of me to be glad it didn’t go well? Because I am glad. I'm really glad.”

Hermann hums. “A bit,” he says. If their roles were reversed, had Newton had been the one on the date with Todd, Hermann’d likely be sitting around fuming and waiting for him to get back, too.

“Thank you,” Newton says, earnestly, “for—you know.”

“It’s nothing,” Hermann says, though he’s not sure whether Newton’s thanking him for jumping to his defense or not leaving him to trudge on through his work alone in Hong Kong. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes.

Newton’s hand moves to his knee. _Oh_. “I care about you too, Hermann.”

  

Hermann’s tie is first to go, tossed to the floor like it’s personally wronged Newton. Good riddance to it, really, Hermann’s not wearing a tie ever again if he can help it. His button-up follows. “How many layers are you wearing, man?” Newton giggles, failing miserably in peeling off his thin undershirt. Hermann lifts himself up on his elbows to struggle with it himself.

“It’s not _that_ many,” he says, and when it finally joins the pile on the floor (where Newton’s hoodie and socks also reside) Newton crows in triumph.

“It absolutely is,” Newton says. He pushes Hermann back onto the bed and runs his hand down his bare, too-pale chest. Hermann shivers pleasantly. “God, look at you,” Newton breathes. He sounds almost reverent.

It’s not remotely how Hermann expected the night to go. He’s not disappointed. “Take yours off, too,” he demands, and Newton flashes him a smile before he whips his faded old t-shirt off over his head. Newton’s tattoos extend down, _way_ down, down beyond where his stomach hangs slightly over his waistband.

Newton flexes one arm with an exaggerated wink, then the other. “Oh yeah, baby,” he says. He pats his stomach. “Is this too hot for you to handle?”

Hermann drags Newton on top of him by the shoulders—Newton lets out a surprised little squeak—and starts peppering his face with kisses. “ _Yes_ ,” Hermann says, only half-joking, and when his lips brush Newton’s (though hardly their first kiss of the night) he moans. “Oh, Newton—”

“Okay,” Newt wheezes out, “okay, uh—” He slides one cotton-clad thigh between Hermann’s legs and catches Hermann’s hand, dragging it to his chest and just over top his heart. “Can you—will you touch me?” He’s flushed pink and only getting pinker, staining the bare skin beneath his tattoos, and Hermann obliges enthusiastically. He drags his fingertips over Newton’s pectorals, the peaks of his nipples, down to the thatch of dark hair over Newton’s light chub, out to squeeze at his sides, all while Newton makes soft noises and lazily touches Hermann’s chest in return. “You really would give up having your own lab for me?” Newton says.

“Unquestionably,” Hermann says. He would give up a great many things for Newton. He tweaks Newton’s left nipple; Newton squeaks again.

“I would, too,” Newton says. “One hundred percent.” He presses his thigh a little more insistently between Hermann’s. (Newton’s aroused, Hermann realizes, aroused by _Hermann_ , aroused by what Hermann’s doing to him.) “Do you wanna…?”

“Only if you do,” Hermann says.

Newton licks his kiss-bitten lips twice, nose scrunched up in thought. He’s terribly adorable like this. “We could—” He stumbles over his words. “We can wait. If you want.”

Hermann strokes back a piece of Newton’s hair; it's messier than usual. “Whatever you’d like, Newton.” He smiles.

Newton lowers himself down fully, his bare chest pressing against Hermann’s. Hermann slides his hand down Newton's shoulders to rest at the curve of his back. “I want to take you on a date first,” Newton blurts out. “A real, actual date.” Hermann kisses at the corner of his mouth. “Is, uh, is that okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hermann says. He kisses the other corner of his mouth. Now that he’s been granted permission to touch Newton, to kiss Newton, to hold Newton, he can’t remotely find it within himself to stop. He’d happily lay here for the rest of existence with Newton wrapped up tight in his arms if Newton permitted him.

“Cool,” Newton says. “Okay.” Hermann brushes his lips at the underside of Newton’s jaw, at the rough, stubbly skin of his throat. Newton’s breath hitches. “You don’t—you don’t have to stop doing that, though.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hermann says again.

**Author's Note:**

> i think this is the second time ive stolen a title from a carole king song
> 
> find me on tumblr at hermannsthumb, where i post other ficlets, twitter @hermanngaylieb, and Secret NSFW 18+ Only Twitter @hermanngayszler!


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